75 Dates
by brennansboys
Summary: From a random prompt list I found on Tumblr. Chronicling Booth and Brennan's lives through a series of dates. Cavity inducing fluff, because that's my fave.
1. Fancy Dinner

**Because I don't have enough WIPs right now and not enough time to finish them, I figured why not start another new fic, right? Hahahaha (why do I do this to myself?)**

 **Hope you enjoy! :)**

 **Chapter One: Fancy Dinner.**

"You look beautiful," he says, his eyes glinting with delight as he takes in the sight of his partner sitting opposite him. While he hasn't really bothered much with his appearance - just taken a shower and put on a smart shirt and pants - Brennan has gone all out. She's wearing a red maxi dress that floats to the floor and looks incredible on her. He knows she's feeling a little insecure about her body - she did, after all, only give birth to their precious baby girl three weeks earlier - so he makes sure to tell her how great she looks at every opportunity. Because she does. He's not just shining her on; she really is the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen - even when she was sweaty and screaming at him in labor. He still thought she was stunning. He always thinks she's stunning.

Her cheeks flush rosy pink as she ducks her head, embarrassed by his constant compliments.

"It's the truth," he asserts, noticing this gesture. "You look amazing right now. I'm so lucky."

"Booth," she whispers with a gentle sigh. "I just had a baby. My weight is still-."

He presses a finger to her supple lips, effectively silencing her. "You're healthy. You're happy. _That's_ what's important, not some unachievable celebrity weight loss goal."

Their conversation is put on hold as a perky dark-haired waitress arrives at their table and asks to take their order. Booth orders the lobster - they are after all, at one of the fanciest restaurants in town, he may as well go all out - and Brennan orders some vegan crap that he doesn't understand. She disappears as quickly as she came and he reaches out to take Brennan's hand across the table. He covers his hand with hers, softly stroking the back of it.

"You, however," she says, resuming their discussion after a few moments of besotted staring into each others eyes and grinning like two lovestruck teenagers, "you look very hot."

"I _do_?"

He feels her eyes raking over his body, his chest puffing up at the action.

"Yes, definitely."

He gives her his classic lopsided smile, pleased that she appreciates his appearance as much as he does hers. Their partnership is very much equal, balanced, Booth needs Brennan's rationality, her forensic expertise and Brennan needs Booth's childish exuberance and strong belief system. This continues to be the case as their more romantic partnership develops as well as their journey through shared parenthood. Their relationship is like a perfectly balanced set of scales. Where Brennan is perhaps lacking in something, like faith or intuition, Booth makes up for it and vice versa. They're like yin and yang, total opposites who can come together to create a complete and unstoppable force. It's what makes them such great crime-solvers, lovers and now parents to their wonderful Christine.

Speaking of, she's being babysat by Hodgins and Angela back at home.

Initially, both parents had found it quite difficult to leave her for the evening, but they'd decided quite early on in Brennan's pregnancy that since their relationship was still new, fresh, making time for each other and for dates would be of the upmost importance. Besides, Brennan needed to get out of this house, not used to being cooped up indoors with no work or things to do. So Booth had planned this fancy dinner, insisting they both dress up nice, and Christine had been left her with aunt and uncle (not biologically, but still her aunt and uncle nonetheless).

"I wonder how our daughter" - the fact that he and Brennan have a child together, a beautiful baby girl, will _never_ get old - "is doing," Booth voices aloud, knowing by the clouded over look in his partner's eyes that she's thinking the exact same thing.

"I'm sure she's fine," Brennan says, sounding like she's trying to convince herself. "Hodgins and Angela have a son. They know how to take care of a baby. She's in safe hands. I'm sure she's fine."

"We promised we wouldn't ring."

"And we won't. We'll see her very soon. We'll see her very soon..."

He squeezes her land, letting her know he understands and is there for her. "We're enjoying our fancy dinner anyway, huh? We're having a great time, we have absolutely no reason to worry."

"None at all."

"Nope."

"I'm still a little worried," she confesses quietly, chewing on her lower lip.

He lets out a breath of relief. "Thank _God_. So am I. It's crazy, but I miss her already."

"This is just what every parent has to go through, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, it is. It just means we're normal parents."

"I like being a parent with you, Booth," she says, smiling softly. "There's nobody else I'd rather go through this with."

"Me too, Bones. Me too," he responds, his hand pulling away from hers as the waitress returns with their food. She places their meals in front of them and then leaves them to spend the rest of their date night enjoying the excellent cuisine, talking about everything and anything and sharing amorous looks from across the table.

 **Follow/Favourite/Review and all that jazz... I'd really appreciate your feedback.**

 **Thanks for reading! :)**


	2. Dinner and a Movie

**Set after 8x02. These stories are all in chronological order, by the way.**

 **Chapter Two: Dinner and a Movie**

After returning from being on the run, Brennan had found it difficult to adjust for quite some time. She'd worked minimum wage jobs. She was out of the forensic anthropology loop and had fallen behind her peers. She'd been a single mother and had to re-adapt to co-parenting again. And her relationship with Booth was tense, to say the least.

They'd always been very much in sync, symbiotic, almost. But when she'd come home and the initial joy of being reunited wore off, their relationship was awkward.

After the argument under the bridge and in the lawyer's office, she'd gone to Sweets for advice. She'd told him how much she loved Booth and didn't want to be angry with him. She just wanted things to go back to how they were before. _Before_ she was accused of murdering Ethan Sawyer. _Before_ she was forced to become a fugitive with their daughter and leave him alone for three months.

("Well, Dr. Brennan," the psychologist had said, clasping his hands together in his lap, "if you want your relationship to Booth to return to normal, then you have to start doing normal things together."

She crinkled her brow. "What do you mean? _Sex_?"

"No, no." He paused, catching himself. His cheeks had flushed pink in embarrassment. "Obviously sex is _important_. You should have sex. I mean, if you want to. As long as there's consent. And, you know, you use protection. Unless you and Booth want another kid, which is, um, none of my business at a-."

"Sweets. Stop."

He let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. What I meant was, you should go out on dates. Make some time for each other outside work. Without Christine. Don't even talk about her. Make sure it's you-time."

"What do you recommend we do?" She had asked, genuinely curious. It had been a while.

"Dinner and a movie?" He had suggested, shrugging casually. "That's what Daisy and I do all the time. Daisy likes sitting at the back of the theatre so we can, um-." He cleared his throat, realising what he was about to say. "Anyway..."

"Dinner and a movie?" She mused, pursing her lips. "That does sound like it would be quite fun. And Booth _does_ love movies. All right, we'll do it. Thanks, Sweets. Oh, and thanks for the advice about sitting at the back of the theatre." She had grinned at him, picked up her bag and left his office, leaving a spluttering, tomato-faced FBI shrink in her wake.)

So that's what they've done. They've just finished their meal at a great pizza restaurant in town and now they're sitting in the movie theatre, waiting for the film to begin. They're watching Gone Girl because she'd read the book and was fascinated by the story. Since Booth loves thrillers just as much as she does, he'd easily agreed to watching the movie.

As the screen is suddenly lit up and a car commercial begins, Booth wraps one arm around Brennan's shoulder, pulling her into his side as best he can with the armrest between them.

"I'm having a great time so far tonight, Bones," he says, smiling at her.

"I'm glad, Booth, so am I. The pizza was delicious."

He nods his agreement, patting his stomach with his free hand. "Damn right it was. I ate so much pizza that I can barely move."

"You don't have to move; according to the theatre's website, the running time is two hours and twenty nine minutes. That's plenty of time to recover from over-eating, isn't it?"

"It probably will be, yes, Bones." He punctuates his sentence with a soft chuckle and a shake of his head. "You haven't changed at all. Still gotta do your research."

"Of course, Booth," she responds, incredulity seeping through her tone. "What kind of scientist would I be if I didn't do my research?"

"A bad one, I suppose. What other research did you do?"

"I read brief plot summery to refresh my memory, I read plenty of reviews and the movie seems to have been received quite positively so I assume we will like it and I also watched some online videos of the cast. Ben Affleck is quite attractive."

He raises his brows and the sparkly-eyed look his partner is wearing so openly. "What do you mean, attractive? Is he better looking than me?"

"You know I don't think anybody is better looking than you, Booth," she says seriously, because she really means it. He's _hot_ and - most importantly - he's all hers. No Hollywood actor will ever be more handsome than him.

"Prove it." He smirks at her, his eyes darting to her lips. "Prove that you're more attracted to me than anyone else."

"But _Booth_ -," she hisses, blushing. "We're in _public_."

He glances around the theatre. Their row is empty and there are only a smattering of other people in their seats and they're not even close. He turns back to Brennan and shrugs. "Nobody would notice."

Brennan's eyes track the same route Booth's had. He's right. The theatre is bare. Their actions in the corner of the back row would go undetected. And Sweets had started to mention that he and Daisy get... _frisky_... when they go to the movies. So it's normal. And they do need to resume normal behaviour.

"OK," she says and his entire face lights up with delight. "Let's make out until the movie starts."

"We need something to pass the time anyway," he agrees, capturing her lips with his. Her hands are immediately raking through his hair and vice versa, both moaning (as inconspicuously as they can) when Brennan deepens the kiss.

They don't notice the commercials ending.

They don't even realise the movie has started.

They're so engrossed in each other and the feel of each other after being separated for so long, they couldn't really care less on what's happening on-screen.

"Wanna forget this movie and get out of here?" He whispers in her ear, before nibbling her lobe.

Her insides flutter. Yes. Of course. _Yes_. "Absolutely."

He flashes her that charm smile of his, ditches the popcorn for her hand and runs down the stairs of the centre aisle with her, feeling like a lovestruck teenager all over again.

Whatever.

They're finally on track again and he can't wait to get her back to their living room, bedroom and bathroom (in that order) and have his way with her.

And, with the way Brennan's eyes are darkening in pleasure, it's pretty clear that she's just as excited as he is.

 **Thank you for the really positive reviews to the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one just as much. Oh, and please leave another review. I cherish every single one of them.**


	3. At Home Movie Night

**Set after 8x04.**

 **Chapter Three: At Home Movie Night.**

"Christine's asleep," Booth says as he enters the living room, waving the baby monitor gleefully at his partner. "After I read to her she went out like a light."

Brennan grins as she hands him his glass of Scotch. "I'm glad. She's been struggling to go to sleep for the last few nights..."

"Our girl is fine, Bones," he assures her, plonking himself on the sofa beside her, letting out a groan in exhaustion. He throws back his head. "If it wasn't date night, I think I'd be joining her. I'm shattered."

"Me too. I was thinking we could just watch a movie and then go to bed ourselves."

His eyebrow arches. "To go to sleep or... to do something else?"

"While _something else_ sounds rather tempting, I'm not really in the mood tonight," she replies, shrugging despondently.

Booth knows Brennan better than anybody else in the world. He can tell when she's happy, when she's upset or when she's pissed off and he should give her some space. He immediately recognises that she's down about something and determines to find out what's wrong.

"Still upset about the tiger, Bones?" While that case had been nearly a week ago, his partner has been deeply affected by the death of the beautiful Siberian Tiger. She loves intensely, does his Bones, and when she loses that thing, she ends up hurting intensely too. He knows she still gets upset about Ripley's death and, with that anniversary coming up too, it can't have helped.

She grimaces and gulps her red wine. "I don't understand how somebody could just shoot such a beautiful creature. It really was beautiful, Booth, and now there's one less in the world..."

"I know, Bones. Like I said, it was beautiful and rare, just like you." He grins at her and she shakes her head disparagingly, but leans into his side nonetheless when his arm circles her shoulders. He caresses her bare shoulder in a comforting motion, ensuring she knows he's here for her and always will be. "So, what movie do you want to watch?"

"Mmm," she drains her glass as she considers Booth's vast collection of DVDs, "perhaps we could watch The Jungle Book?"

"Are you serious?"

"Of course, Booth. It's one of Disney's finest movies, the music is exceptional and one of the main characters is a tiger."

"Shere Khan?" Booth says, watching her with surprise. "Isn't he the bad guy?"

"Maybe so. But I'd still like to watch the movie."

"All right," he agrees, standing up and picking out the case from his collection, opening it up and popping the disc in the DVD player. He returns to his position next to Brennan and she snuggles into his side as the commercials begin. Booth skips through them impatiently and presses play. Truth be told, he was hoping they'd watch something a little more mature, however, if The Jungle Book will improve the woman he love's mood, then The Jungle Book it is.

They end up having a great evening, much to Booth's complete surprise.

They both remember the film from childhood and gleefully sing along to the songs. Brennan tells him that the Bare Necessities was always her favourite because her and her mom would sing it together and they'd dance around the living room. As she recounts the memory, her eyes light up with joy and her sadness seems to totally dissipate.

"What's your favourite?"

"I Wanna Be Like You," he decides eventually, his lips quirking into a smile. "Back when Parker was younger, he was _obsessed_ with the movie. He must have made me watch it with him like a hundred times. I didn't mind because it made him happy, but it means I now know the entire thing off by heart. He loved all the monkey scenes - thought they were hilarious. He'd always bound around the living room pretending to be a monkey himself, and singing that song."

Brennan laughs softly. "I'd have loved to have seen that."

"I think Rebecca filmed it one time. I'll have to ask her to send us the video."

"Can't wait to see it," she says and rests her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Booth."

"I love you too, Bones," he replies, his eyes twinkling. "Not that I don't like hearing your declarations of love for me, but that was a bit random. What's going on in that brilliant brain of yours?"

She blows out a breath, marvelling at how he knows her better than she knows herself. "I find that you constantly impress me with your selflessness, Booth." She gestures to the movie as it draws to a close. "You didn't have to spend our date night watching a child's animated film, but you did anyway, because you knew it would help me feel better. You just - you're the best. You know that, right?"

"Well, I try," he murmurs, dropping a soft kiss to her crown. "And, to be honest, Bones, I'm open to doing anything on our date nights, so long as I get to spend time with you."

"You're open to doing anything, huh?" She lifts her head from his shoulder and smirks at him, now very much in the mood for the _something else_ he mentioned earlier. "What about page 187?"

"We can definitely do page 187... You know how much I love that..."

As they race upstairs towards their bedroom, Brennan's carefree, delighted laughter cuts through the quiet house, her bright, uncontainable joy emanating from every pore and filling The Mighty Hut with pure happiness.

Sometimes the simplest dates they have in their family home turn out to be the most enjoyable ones.

 **Review? :)**


	4. Dance Class

**Set after 8x10. This was a lot of fun to write.**

 **Chapter Four: Dance Class.**

"Where are we going, Bones?" Booth asks for the tenth time in the past hour. It's her turn to plan date night and all she'd told him was to wear comfortable clothes and what time they were leaving. They've been in the car for nearly twenty minutes now and she has yet to disclose any more clues. All he can do is look out the window and try to make an educated guess based on their surroundings, but it's dark out and he doesn't recognise this part of town.

"It's a secret, Booth," she replies, keeping her gaze fixed on the road and the traffic around her.

"But I wanna know," he whines, sounding like a petulant child.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"I'm your partner. You're not supposed to keep secrets from your partner, you know? Sweets is constantly banging on about how communication issues are fatal in a relationship. If you don't want us to break up, you should tell me where we're going."

She risks a glance at him and sees his lower lip jutted out in a pout. Letting out a light laugh, she says, "Obviously I don't want us breaking up, however I don't think keep your surprise to myself for another five minutes will hurt, will it?"

"We're five minutes away?"

"That's what I said, Booth."

The conversation lulls as Brennan's Prius speeds along the road, Booth too busy craning his neck out of the window to look for a restaurant or bar or anything remotely date night appropriate to strike up a conversation. What he doesn't expect is for Brennan to pull into a dimly lit parking lot in front of a community centre. Using her Prius' fancy-schmancy parking assistance, she backs into a spot and kills the engine.

He raises his eyebrows. "This is it?"

"This is it. Now, chop chop, we don't want to be late." She hops out of her side of the car and Booth follows suit, jogging to catch up with her as she heads towards the entrance of the centre.

"What are we doing here, Bones?" He was expecting a romantic three course meal by candlelight with some soft jazz playing in the background, not _this_. This isn't his idea of a romantic date night. The brick walls are crumbling, the windows are boarded up and tagged in graffiti and there's an overwhelming stench of weed. This is awful. He's never letting her plan date night again.

"You'll see," comes her only response. She opens the door and slips inside, leading him along a hallway painted in a garish lime green. The hallway ends in a large, open studio with hardwood flooring, clean white walls and, at the far end, a huge mirror. It's a total contrast to the rest of this place. It's a dance studio.

"We're _dancing_?"

"Correction: we're taking a dance _class_ this evening. Surprise, Booth!"

She looks so happy and proud of herself, but he can't help staring at her in bewilderment. "Why do we need to take a dance class, Bones?"

"Well, Booth, since we failed to succeed in our audition for Dance To The Top, I figured we could benefit from some extra practise." She waves over an elderly couple dressed head-to-toe in rhinestones. "Fred and Florence here are going to teach us the rumba."

His eyes sparkle with amusement as their instructors dance towards Booth and Brennan because walking like an normal human being would be boring, apparently. " _They're_ going to teach _us_ how to dance?"

"Yes, that's what I said. Be nice, Booth," she hisses as Fred and Florence come into earshot. They greet Brennan with exaggerated kisses on the cheek, making the ridiculous 'MWAH' sound.

"Just like the French do, _darling_ ," Florence says in a nasally voice. Upon seeing Booth up close, her cheeks, already with a heavy sweep of rosy pink blush over them, flush pinker. "Oh my. Aren't you a handsome young thing? And what's your name, _darling_?"

"Seeley Booth," he responds, stifling laughter as he shares a meaningful look with Brennan.

"Strong name, kid." Fred shakes his hand politely, then wastes no time getting the private class started. "First of all, we're going to split you up. I'll coach the beautiful Temperance and you'll be with Florence, Seeley."

 _Great_ , he grumbles internally. If anyone's going to flirt with him all night long, he'd much rather it be the woman he loves than the exuberant sixty five year old in the shimmering dress.

"The rumba is very _sexual_ and _passionate_ dance," Florence begins as Brennan is led over to the other side of the studio. "It's important to be close to your partner's body."

"Oh, uh, right," he murmurs as she tugs him too close for comfort.

"Next we're going to do the basic side step. It goes: slow, quick, quick, slow and quick, quick." As she instructs him, they do the steps and she seems shocked when Booth nails it the first time. "I was under the impression you were not a very skilled dancer."

"Let me guess, Bones – I mean, Temperance – told you she was better than me and I was the one who needed all the help."

"That's exactly what she said."

He blows out a breath and shakes his head. "I used to teach dance when I was in college, Florence. _She's_ the one who has no rhythm and refuses to let me lead. See, look at her now."

Florence glances over her shoulder, her hand covering her mouth when she sees that Booth is right. It looks like her and Fred are having a fist fight, rather than ballroom dancing. "You are right, _sweetcheeks_. She's dreadful."

Booth purses his lips at the undisguised insult. He wouldn't go that far. "She thinks I'm the reason we didn't progress through the Dance To The Top auditions."

"Oh no, darling, it is definitely because of her. Why did you even audition if you know she can't dance?"

"I'm an FBI agent and she's my partner. We needed to go undercover at this dance competition in order to catch a murderer," he explains.

"You're an FBI agent?" Her hazel eyes light up. "I find that's _extremely_ sexy."

She steps closer to him predatorily and Booth takes a matching step backwards. "Aren't you and Fred together?"

"No, _silly_. We're just partners. I am very much single and ready to _m-in-gle_."

Booth cringes, dodging her advances. "Well, I'm not. I'm with Bones – Temperance. We have a baby girl together."

"You do?" Florence visibly deflates.

"Yeah, we're really happy together," he says, smiling softly as he always does when he thinks about his precious family. Brennan. Parker. Christine. His favourite people in the world. "Speaking of, shouldn't we start dancing _together_ now? It's our date night, so that's kind of what we came for."

"Of course, sugar," she replies, quickstepping towards Fred and Brennan. She reminds him of Caroline with all these pet names she keeps using.

"How did it go, Booth?" Brennan questions, strolling over to him.

"She thought I was very talented." He snakes his arm around her waist and kisses the apple of her cheek. Pretending he didn't see her disastrous half of the session, he asks how it went for her.

"Fred didn't seem very impressed by my moves," she says, furrowing her brow. "Which is ludicrous because I was following his instructions to the letter."

He grins. "I'm sure you were, Bones. Guy has no idea what he's talking about."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, _Seeley_ , and move us on to the next part of the class." He claps his hands together. "Get into your starting positions."

Brennan and Booth stands so they're mere inches apart, their hands resting on each other's shoulders and their other hands entwined, so they're in the traditional hold. Florence orders them to do the side step they'd just practised, so they do. Slow, quick, quick. Slow, quick, quick.

"Good," Florence says, pleased that Brennan seems to be moving more comfortably with Booth than Fred. "Although your hips could use a little work, Seeley."

His mouth drops open as he swears she brushes her hands over his gluteus muscles before landing on his hips and swivelling them in the correct motion. She keeps her hands in the same position as she tells Booth and Brennan to go again and gives his ass a little congratulatory squeeze when they get it right.

"You're improving already. Now, we're going to demonstrate a pretty basic routine and then you'll do the same, OK, darlings? Watch closely."

Fred switches on some sultry rumba music and takes Florence in his arms. They begin side-stepping, swivelling their hips and twirling like absolute pros (which Booth supposes they are). Booth's eyes are wide as he watches Fred dip Florence dramatically, somehow without dropping her to the floor. "Are we sure these are the easy moves?" He whispers in Brennan's ear.

"This does look complex, even for an excellent dancer like myself."

"Wanna make an excuse about how our babysitter has a family emergency and we need to go home?"

Her lips quirk devilishly. "I love that idea." Raising the volume of her voice, she announces to Fred and Florence that they have to leave to take care of their daughter, even though she's staying with Max until tomorrow morning (but they don't need to know that).

Their instructors either don't hear them or they just don't care as their fiery dance continues without pause. Meanwhile, Booth and Brennan get the hell out of there.

As they walk along the corridor, Brennan's thoughts drift back to Dance To The Top. More precisely, to her favourite memory of the undercover excursion with the infamous Buck and Wanda Moosejaw. She stops Booth with a hand to his forearm. "Do you remember the last time we danced together? We made out in the janitor's closet."

A smile spreads across his face. "'Course I remember, Bones. It was hot. Both the room and the making out with you."

"I said it felt like high school in there and you told me that the backseat of the car was more your thing," she continues with a clear destination in mind.

"Why are you telling me this, Bones? I'm not likely to forget any time soon."

"I find dancing the rumba very sexually stimulating, Booth, and I would very much enjoy testing out the backseat of my car with you."

He smirks, his eyes darkening. "That sounds awesome, Bones. Let's do that." He grabs her hand and starts running out of the community centre, pulling her along behind him. She laughs delightedly, only stopping when he crashes his lips against hers, pressing her against the side of the car. She somehow manages to reach for her keys in her bag and unlock the car door. They separate just long enough for Booth to open the door and for them to both get inside. Then, once comfortable, they resume making out like teenagers all over again.

 **Please leave a review if you liked this – I appreciate every single one of them. :)**


	5. Brunch

**Set during 8x14 because I wish they'd dealt with this during the episode…**

 **Chapter Five: Brunch.**

As he strolls towards the Royal Diner, his thoughts are consumed with the events of the previous night. Angela had invited him over to the bar without any explanations as to why. She'd just told him that it was of the utmost importance and that he better get his ass over there otherwise he'd face deadly consequences. He's still feeling pretty pissed off about it because he'd been working on the case all day, only taking a break from the murder to plan the Neurofibromatosis event. He was about to go home and relax with his girls when he got the call from Angela and by the time he got home after questioning Nicky, they were both asleep. He'd had to rush out early this morning with no breakfast and no cuddle time with Brennan and Christine. Hence, the reason he's heading to the diner for brunch with his Bones.

He stops at the crossing, ensures there's no traffic coming and walks across the road. He can see her through the window now, looking beautiful as ever. His lips ticking up in a smile, he increases his pace so he's with her sooner.

"After you," he says to a young family as they meet at the diner's entrance. He holds the door open for them as they struggle getting the stroller through, then he follows them inside. Brennan's facing the doorway and she lights up like a Christmas tree as she sees him, her broad grin spreading from ear to ear. She's clearly missed him too. He sits opposite her, basking in her gorgeous glowing skin, sparkling eyes and soft, silky hair that frames her face perfectly. "Hey, Bones. You look great."

"I know," she says matter-of-factly. "Thank you."

" _You know_?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Yes. You tell me I'm beautiful all the time, so I know that you think I look great. Plus, men frequently check me up."

"Check you _out_ , Bones," he corrects, shaking his head amusedly at her misquote. She's improving (with his help, he likes to think) but she still makes the odd error. He finds it endearing, although he might be a little bias. He always finds her endearing. "The saying is check you out."

"Whatever. The point is men – and the occasional woman – will check me _out_. I'm aware that I'm attractive."

"When are they doing that?" He demands, feeling the temperature of his cheeks rising. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous. He knows Brennan loves him and their life together in the Mighty Hut. She's never given him any reason to doubt her loyalty to him, but he can't help it. She's not just some piece of meat strangers can ogle whenever they like. She's his brilliant genius and it bothers him.

"Quite often," comes her answer.

"Quite often?" He repeats, furrowing his brow. He's never seen anyone check her out when he's been there.

Almost as if she can read his mind like one of the X-Rays back at the lab, she says, "They probably don't do it when you're there, Booth, because we look like a couple; they can tell I'm not interested in finding a new lover. I'm very happy with the one I've got, thank you very much."

"So am I."

A new waitress approaches their table and asks if they're ready to order. Booth chooses the Eggs Benedict and Brennan orders her favourite Eggless Tofu Omelette, which Booth always pulls a face at. She made him try it one time and he spit it straight back out. She had found it rather amusing, to say the least.

"What were you up to last night?" Brennan questions as the waitress – Lainey, her badge reads – leaves them to it. "Sorry I couldn't wait up for you. I was exhausted."

"No, it's OK, I completely understand. I just went to the Founding Fathers with Angela. About the case."

"Anything I need to know?"

His pupils dilate. _Did Angela tell her?!_ "Um, w-what… do you mean?"

Brennan crinkles her nose, confused by his reaction. "Did you discover anything that I would need to know to help with the investigation?"

"Oh, right _, that_. Not the kiss." He claps his hand over his mouth, horrified he'd let it slip. He was going to tell her – obviously, he didn't instigate it, he did nothing wrong – but he was going to tell her gently and at home, not blurt it out in the diner. He's made himself look guilty now.

"What kiss?" She sounds furious, her jaw tense, her gaze suddenly filled with anger. " _You kissed someone?"_

Crap.

"Someone kissed me. Angela. It was Angela's fault."

His explanation does nothing to assuage her concern. "Angela kissed you? What the hell? Why?"

"She was very drunk and undercover and said I was her boyfriend and then she just planted one on me to keep her cover."

"I know Angela gets a little wild sometimes," Brennan understates massively, "but she knows we're together. She wouldn't have done that."

"Well, she did. Believe me, I was as surprised as you."

"I know she's always thought you were cute, but kissing you? That's crossing a line." She pauses, then levels him with a stern glare. "Did you kiss her back?"

"What? _NO!_ Of course not!" He cries. "You're the only person I wanna kiss, Bones."

Her glare softens, feeling herself calm down at his reassurance. "You're the only person I want to kiss too, Booth."

"Glad to hear it." He takes her clenched fist into his hand and rubs his thumb over her skin in soothing, circular movements. "Are you mad at me?"

She lets out a deep sigh; she was mad initially – she saw red – but she knows he would never cheat on her and decides to forgive him. "No, no. I'm not mad at you."

"What about Angela?"

She tilts her head, pursing her lips. "A little mad."

"She was drunk, Bones, and she's your best friend. She'd never intentionally hurt you. She knows I'm yours and you're mine, I made sure of that while I was sobering her up with coffee."

"You are mine," she says firmly. "I don't want to share you with anyone. Not even Angela."

"You don't have to, Bones. I love _you_ , nobody else," he promises, then backtracks. "Obviously I love Parker and Christine and Pops and Jared – when he's not being a pain in the ass – but it's a different kind of love. And you're my favourite anyway."

"You're my favourite too," she confesses, flashing him a sweet smile. "Let's not talk about Angela anymore. Let's just enjoy our date."

"You know what, Bones? You're full of great ideas, you are."

"I know. Thank you."

He releases her hand, snorting with amusement at her response, as Lainey returns with their brunch and they dig into the delicious food.

 **Review? :)**


	6. Drinks

**This one got kind of sad which was unintentional, but I hope you still like it. :)**

 **Chapter Six: Drinks.**

Even before they were a couple in a romantic sense, they'd spend a huge proportion of their free time together.

At the beginning of their partnership, Brennan would often join Booth at Wong Fu's for a celebratory meal whenever they'd catch a killer and lock them up behind bars. Due to their impressive and envy-inducing conviction rate, these meals became a regular event, sometimes occurring a couple of times a week.

Wong Fu's evolved into sharing lunch at the Royal Diner. Booth's love of their fruit pies was (and continues to be) insatiable and even though Brennan hated pies herself, she certainly enjoyed Booth's company.

Around the same time, they discovered the Founding Fathers and it quickly became their favourite bar in DC. Every time they'd solve a case, they'd celebrate by having a beer (or three.) It helped strengthen their partnership, develop the bond between the two of them. And it was nice because whenever Brennan went out for drinks with Angela, the promiscuous artist would always encourage her to hook up with random guys, whereas with Booth it was more relaxed. They could just talk to each other, share stories about the lives, and make each other laugh. It was nice.

Obviously since the birth of their beautiful baby girl, they don't go out for drinks as much as they used to. They prefer to stay at home after a case, spend time with Christine, remind themselves that there is some good in the world outside of the murder and cruelty they deal with on a daily basis. They'll still have a drink or too after Christine has been put to bed, like tonight, for example.

"One red wine for Bones," he says, handing her he glass of Merlot and then pouring his favourite drink for himself. "And one Scotch for me."

"Let's sit, Booth," Brennan directs, taking her seat on the couch. Booth sits next to her and wraps his free arm around her shoulders. "I was so worried, Booth."

He takes a sip of his Scotch and sighs. He knows what she's referring to. Their latest case had revolved around a serial arsonist and over fifty victims. He set fire to a shop, a church and a bowling alley, timing the events to maximise the number of fatalities, like during the church's Sunday morning service. After days of attempting to track the culprit down, the Fire Department phoned Booth with a lead about a fire in an elementary school and Booth just _knew_ it was him. Despite everyone's warnings, he'd driven over there, his siren blaring, and burst into the building to help save the children. The sadistic bastard had been watching the events unfold, _enjoying_ it. He'd aimed his gun at Booth and Booth shot him dead. He couldn't let the bastard take anymore lives and especially not those of young, innocent kids just trying to get an education.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you alive again…"

"Bones," his whispers, his voice hoarse. He doesn't want to think about that. He doesn't ever want to think about that.

"I'm serious, Booth. That building was on fire. You had no equipment, you went in there completely unprepared… We could have lost you. We could have so easily lost you."

He watches as she drinks her wine, his eyes clouding over. She does have a point. "I should have been more careful."

"Yes, you should have," she agrees. "Parker, Christine and I, we need you. We _love_ you. You can't do things like that anymore, Booth. You have your family to think about. It was irresponsible."

"You're right, Bones. You're totally right."

"I always am," comes her frank response.

He finishes his Scotch and pours another. Sometimes their post-case drinks are light and happy occasions; a lot of the time they're the complete opposite. Their job is _difficult_. It's heartbreaking. No matter how many lives they save, they are constantly around death. They drink to forget, to numb the pain.

"When I saw that school burning…" He lets out a short breath, shaking his head. "When I saw that school was burning I thought of Parker, I thought of Christine – how distraught we'd be if that were our kids in there. I couldn't let the parents face that, Bones. I couldn't. I know it was dangerous and irresponsible but-."

"I understand," she says softly, draining her glass. "You're a very good man, Booth."

He ducks his head, embarrassed.

"Look at me. I mean it. You're a hero, Booth. You're _my_ hero."

His dark eyes boring into her blue-grey ones, all he sees his love. The love she has for him shines so clearly. Overcome with emotion, he puts down his drink and pulls her into his lap, hugging her tightly. He buries his face in her neck and lets himself cry, releasing all of the pent up sadness from the day.

As they hold each other, Brennan suddenly realises tonight was supposed to be date night, but with everything going on… It wouldn't seem appropriate to go out and have a good time now. They're together and, in the end, that's all that really matters.

 **Thank you for the response to the previous chapters, perhaps you could leave one here too? I'd appreciate it so much. :-)**


	7. Cruise

**Set after the shot in the dark. Sorry this is really short (and probably really crappy). The fact that I've just started uni and have almost no time, coupled with a bout of writer's block and a severe lack of motivation (Bones ff is dead rn) has meant this is the first thing I've written in, like, two weeks. So I apologise if you've been waiting for updates for this story - or any of my others - it could be a while...**

 **Anyhoops,**

 **Chapter Seven: Cruise.**

Her eyes opening languidly, Brennan rolls over so she's facing the man next to her, the love of her life, the father of child and, above all, her partner.

Booth. 

He's still sleeping, his face calm and relaxed, no sign of tension in his jaw. This is the most relaxed she's seen him in weeks. Ever since she'd been shot and her heart had stopped beating, Booth had been on edge. Terrified. Extremely overprotective. If she thought he was bad when she was pregnant... That seems like nothing in comparison to this new, fierce desire to watch over her every move. He insisted upon having a security guard stationed outside her office and the bone room at all times, not trusting anybody in the Medico-Legal lab to keep her safe anymore. When she'd protested, argued that she's a grown woman and can look after herself, Booth had countered with a speech about how close he'd come to losing her and how he couldn't survive without her. They'd both teared up and she'd relented; having security guards around _would_ make her feel more safe and, honestly, she doesn't want to leave him or Christine either.

She gently peels back the sheets so as not to wake him and pads over to their balcony. The sun is just rising, causing the ocean to shimmer iridescently as the waves lap against the side of the ship. It's so peaceful. It's what she imagines heaven would look like if it existed. Which it doesn't, of course. It's merely a delusional fantasy created in order to comfort religious people about the trauma of death. But if heaven _did_ exist, she thinks her current view would look pretty damn similar to it. Distracted by the gulls flying overhead, she fails to hear Booth approaching her and jumps when she feels his arms snake around her waist.

"It's just me, Bones," he murmurs, kissing the back of her neck. "Sorry I scared you."

"You don't need to be. It's not your fault I've been anxious since the shooting. It's irrational of me to be scared when I know you're the only other person in our room."

"Irrational, huh?" He presses another kiss to her soft, soft skin. "I disagree. What you went through, Bones..."

"Let's not talk about it," she decides, her tone firm, final. "The Jeffersonian has paid for this luxury cruise for us so we should make the most of it. No dwelling upon what happened. OK?"

He nods. "You got it, Bones."

"I was thinking we could go to the spa for a couple's massage today..."

"A couple's massage?" Booth echoes, grimacing. He's not so sure he likes the sound of that. While, yes, it would be relaxing - something they both need right now - he isn't particularly crazy about the idea of some other guy running his hands over a naked Brennan. That's _his_ job. "I don't know..."

"What don't you know? I think it sounds like an excellent way to spend our day."

"Pretty sure I can think of a couple of better ideas," says Booth, his voice low, husky. He traces his hands over her bare torso, spinning her around so she's facing him. Their lips meet in an intense kiss, taking Brennan's breath away. She doesn't ever think she's been kissed like that before.

"What did you have in mind?" She whispers, her eyes boring into his, their lips only millimetres apart.

"Spending the rest of the cruise in bed. Having sex over, and over, and over."

Brennan goes weak at the knees and closes the distance between their mouths. Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and his rest low on her back. "This was expensive..." She whimpers between kisses. "The Jeffersonian paid a for-."

"To hell with the Jeffersonian. You're not leaving this bed until this boat returns to shore." To prove his point, her lifts her bridal style and carries her back inside, dropping her on the mattress in a heap. She grins up at him as he crawls on top of her and plants a kiss on her lips.

"To hell with the Jeffersonian," she agrees eventually.

 **Reviews give me motivation to write, so please leave one below. :)**


	8. Road Trip (Part 1)

**Little bit of a time jump now to after 9x01. After a difficult couple of months B &B need a little break to themselves. This chapter has been combined with the next (Weekend Getaway), which will be uploaded tomorrow. :)**

 **Chapter Eight: Road Trip (Part 1)**

"Are you _sure_ you packed everything?" Brennan double-checks, snatching the house keys from Booth before he can lock the door. He has a tendency to forget essentials like a toothbrush or socks and only remember when they're 10 minutes down the road. She's not risking a repeat incident today. "Toothbrush, toothpaste, boxers, socks, enough clothes?"

He levels her with a stare. "You watched me pack."

"I know! I just don't want you to have forgotten anything. I want this weekend to be perfect."

"It will be, Bones. It will, OK?" He pries the keys from her fingers and locks the door, walking over to his FBI-issued SUV. "Were going to have a _great_ trip. And that means no worrying. Not about me, not about Christine, not about work. No worrying whatsoever. Get it?"

She nods, climbing into the vehicle and plugging in her phone as Booth sets up the GPS.

"I can't believe you've never been to Philly before, Bones," he comments as he starts the engine. "You've travelled to little known tribes on every continent but you've never made it to the greatest place in the world."

Brennan scoffs, glancing over her shoulder to check for other cars as Booth backs out of the drive. "I highly doubt that it is the greatest place in the world, Booth. The Amazon, for example, is anthropologically fascinating and the scenery is quite exquisite."

"That may be, Bones, but Philly is still the best."

"If you say so," she responds, pursing her lips.

"It's my hometown!"

"I am aware."

"Home of the Flyers!"

"Yes."

"You still don't believe me, do you?"

"No," she confesses, dropping her hand over his on the central console and giving him an eager smile, "but perhaps this little weekend getaway shall change my mind."

"Let's hope," he agrees. "When you inevitably fall in love with the city, I want us to come back with Parker and Christine sometime soon."

"I think I would enjoy that, too."

They fall into a comfortable silence as Booth concentrates on the road and Brennan on navigating him in the right direction. As road trips go, it's not that long. 138 miles. A 3-hour drive, give or take depending on the traffic. However, unfortunately for Booth, his partner has taken control of the stereo. Less than an hour in and he's already losing his mind.

"Booonnneess, can't you put anything good on?" He complains. Her tribal stuff isn't really his style.

"Tibetan throat singers _are_ good! In fact, they're excellent and I'm not switching it off." Just to spite him, she raises the volume and sings along with them. If you can even call it singing. It sounds more like wailing to Booth.

He grips the steering wheel firmer, shooting her an annoyed look. "Do you have to do that?"

" _Yes_. You always say the person who isn't driving gets to pick the music and since you refused to let me drive..."

"I didn't _refuse_ to let you drive, I just like driving myself, that's all. And I wanted you to be able to look out the window and see the sights."

She looks out the window disdainfully, seeing only the long stretch of the interstate and the brake lights of cars as the traffic comes to a halt. "Beautiful," she comments sarcastically.

"Hey." He narrows his eyes at her. "I thought you'd play music we _both_ like. Our song, perhaps..."

She chuckles. "I'll play our song after this one finishes, OK?"

"Compromise!" He grins, pecking her lips while the car isn't moving. After many more minutes of wailing and shrieking, he turns to his partner. "Bones, how long is this song?"

"9 minutes."

"Bones!" He cries, calling foul play. "That's not fair!"

"The compromise was never dependent on the length of the song," she says evenly.

"I don't like you anymore."

She laughs outright. He can't even pretend. "You love me."

"No, I don't."

"You do, Booth. You _luuuv_ me," she intones, smirking at him.

"I don-. Oh, forget it. Who am I kidding? I love you so much."

"Ditto."

Finally the throat singers tail off and the opening chords of _Hot Blooded_ blast through the speakers.

"You happy now?" She teases him.

"Happiest I've ever been," he answers sincerely. " _I'm hot blooded, check it and see..."_

 _"_ _I got a fever of a hundred and three_ ," she sings along with him, feeling totally care free.

" _Come on baby, do you do more than dance? I'm hot blooded, I'm hot blooded!_ "

* * *

"Booth! What are you doing? We have plenty of snacks!"

He rolls his eyes and bats away her attempts to remove the chips and chocolate bars from his basket. "You might have plenty of snacks, but I don't wanna eat any of that healthy crap."

"It's not crap! It's good for you, hence the term _healthy."_

"I don't want to bicker, Bones."

"Neither do I." They've just made up after he rejected her proposal in the summer and now they are thankfully back on track they've both been making a conscious effort to keep arguments to a minimum. "I just want you to live as long as possible by improving your diet, is that a crime?"

"I guess not," he sighs. "I'll have 1 orange if you let me buy the chocolate."

She considers his proposition for a moment, then agrees, earning her a kiss on the cheek.

"You're the best, Bones."

"I know," she says without hesitation. "Now, come on, we were only scheduled for a 10 minute bathroom break. Let's get back on the road!"

"We've only been 6 minutes," he says lowly, advancing on her. "Surely we can't let those spare 4 minutes go to waste."

Her eyes darken, following his drift. "You pay for the snacks, I'll meet you in the car."

"Forget the snacks." He ditches the basket on an empty shelf and hurries out of the rest stop, his car the destination. They both get in and within seconds he has his lips on hers.

"You know what, Booth?"

"What, Bones?"

"Screw the schedule. I'd rather spend a couple more minutes like this."

"I like the way you think, Temperance Brennan." He grins from ear to ear, then presses his lips to hers.

* * *

"Well, here we are," Booth announces, parking the car in the hotel lot. "Part 1 of the road trip – done!"

"I had a great time with you today," she says with a pretty smile on her face. "I missed this... us... just being on our own and talking, you know?"

He knows she's referring to the past few months where they'd barely spoken, only doing so for their little girl. It had been tough, and Angela hadn't helped the situation by telling Brennan he was cheating on her, but they've survived – again – and they're in a much better place now. It's still killing him not being engaged to her and not being able to reveal _why_ they can't get engaged but she's being super understanding about the whole thing. He gets what she means though – this is the longest uninterrupted time they've spent together in ages and it's already doing his happiness levels the world of good.

"I've missed you, too," he murmurs, choking back a sudden wave of emotion.

"Anyway, shall we check in?"

"Yeah, let's do that."

 **Sorry it's taken so long to update - for your patience there will be 3 chapters in a row this week with some more coming very soon.**

 **Review? :)**


	9. Weekend Getaway (Part 2)

**Thanks for the response to the previous chapter. I really appreciate it :)  
**

 **Chapter Nine: Weekend Getaway (part 2)**

They unload the car – Booth insisting he be the one to hold the suitcase, as chivalrous as ever – and head towards the hotel reception. They give the man behind the desk their details and he hands over their room key, politely wishing them a nice stay.

Their room is on the penthouse floor with fantastic views of the city. He points out where he was born and Pops' old house and Brennan adores the way his eyes sparkle with joy as he shares his hometown with her. He turns away from the window and dives face first onto the huge king-sized bed. He rolls over, his hair now dishevelled adorably. "Come lie with me, Bones."

"I thought you wanted to show me around the city," she counters, but lies beside him anyway.

"Later. I just want to feel you in my arms first." Wrapping his strong arms around her, he tucks her into his side and kisses her slowly. "Bones, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she breathes, her lips touching his.

"You do know that I really want to marry you, right? I mean, if I had nothing stopping me I would take you to a Justice of the Peace to get hitched this second."

She rests her forehead on his, their eyes boring into each other. Baby blues staring into beautiful browns. _God_ , she wants him to be her husband so bad. He's intoxicating. From his broad shoulders, to his firm abs, and even the way a small dimple appears in his cheek when he smiles. Not for the first time she has to bury the curiosity that rises within her, desperately wanting to know what or who is preventing him from marrying her. She has her suspicions, sure, but for Booth's sake she keeps them to herself. She swallows. "I really want to marry you, too, Booth."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirms, leaning in for another languid kiss.

"I should probably be a gentleman and take you out for dinner and wine," he says, breaking apart from her.

She bites back a noise of frustration. "You could. Or..."

"Or?" His ears prick up.

"We could stay in bed and just order room service?" She replies, her tone suggestive.

"That's the best idea I've heard all year."

* * *

The nice part about being away from their toddler is that they actually get a lie in on the weekend for once. And they seriously take advantage of it. They don't get out of bed until 10.30 and that's only because Brennan dragged him out with the promise of a shared shower. Always up for seeing his partner naked and wet, he follows her into the luxurious ensuite like a puppy dog and envelopes her in his muscular arms as they stand beneath the water. He presses hot kisses along her jawline and down her neck, ignoring her protestations.

"Booth! Booth, I actually want to _see_ your hometown, not just spend the whole weekend in bed."

"We're not in bed, we're in the shower," he murmurs, being deliberately obtuse.

"You know what I mean! We need to get ready."

"Inabit." He continues kissing, sucking and biting her skin, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Brennan grabs the bottle of shower gel and squirts some into her palm, rubbing it over her body. Soon enough, Booth hands take over for her and she melts at the feel of him lathering up the soap over her skin.

"Your turn," she decides after a few moments before she actually combusts, massaging soap over his body too, with an intent focus on his gluteus maximus.

He moans, catching her lips in a sensual kiss. "Don't stop."

"Did you say stop?" She smirks, pulling her hands away.

"You know what I said, you little devil." He growls, lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around his torso. "I said _don't_ stop. Ever. You feel so good, Bones."

"I'm about to make you feel even better, Booth..."

* * *

After a go-round in the shower and another in the bedroom when Booth was getting dressed and Brennan just couldn't resist him, they're finally clothed and out of the hotel exploring the city. They visit the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall and the Philadelphia Museum of Art where Brennan picks up a gift for Angela. They have a nice lunch, then do a little shopping. Brennan caves and buys Christine a ridiculously adorable Flyers shirt, a new jersey for Booth and a cap for herself. Booth then takes her on a more personal sight-seeing tour.

They drive around the city and he shows her all the places that mean something to him. His grandparents' old house, the basketball court where he and Jared used to hang out in as kids and even the place where his parents met.

He finds himself getting unexpectedly emotional, but, as always, Brennan is by his side, supporting him, holding his hand when he needs it.

"I, um, have a surprise for you," she says softly, brushing her thumb over his knuckles.

"Are you pregnant?"

Her pupils dilate suddenly. "What?! No! What makes you think that?"

"Nothing! You haven't gained weight or anything. I think you're beautiful. Perfect, even."

"That wasn't the surprise. But if you want another baby..."

His jaw drops. "You're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I love you, Booth, and Christine and Parker. Expanding our family would only make it better."

He beams at the thought of having another mini-Brennan, but pushes it aside for the moment. "We'll talk about it when we get home, huh? So if the surprise wasn't a pregnancy announcement, what is it?"

"2 tickets for you and I to watch the Flyers game tonight!"

"No way," he gasps.

"Yes way. I asked them for the best tickets they had and they gave me the ones behind the glass. That's good, right?"

"Are you kidding me, Bones? That's incredible; _you're_ incredible." He hugs her tightly, unable to put into words how much he loves her. She doesn't even understand hockey – half the time she refers to his favourite team as the Philadelphia Whosits – so for her to do _this..._

"I'm glad you like your surprise, Booth," she giggles. "Although I do apologise that it's not a cake in the oven."

"Bun in the oven," he corrects automatically.

"Right. Bun in the oven. Next time I surprise you I'll make sure it's with news that we're expecting another child."

"Sure, Bones," he responds, shaking his head in amusement. "Can we go to the game now?"

"It doesn't start for another 2 hours, Booth." She crinkles her nose, confused.

"Exactly! Gotta get there early for pre-game build up."

"Fine. Only because I love you."

 **Sorry it's short and crappy...**


	10. Comedy Show

**Again, kind of short, but this one was difficult to write. Hope you enjoy it nevertheless...**

 **Chapter Ten: Comedy Show**

"I can't believe we're doing this," Booth hisses in Brennan's ear, a disdainful expression on his face. "You know he's the worst comedian ever, right?"

"I'm sure you're just exaggerating because you'd rather be watching grown men throw a pigskin around right now, however I promised Mr Fisher that we would come this evening to support him. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't disparage my intern in that way, Booth," she chastises in a hushed tone, not wanting to disturb the other audience members around them.

"All I'm saying is that you haven't heard his jokes. They're, like, _really_ dark."

"Well, Mr Fisher has a 'dark' personality. I have heard him make a few puns during our time together at the lab and I believe he can be rather _humorous_ when he wants to be."

Booth chuckles, slinging his arm around her shoulders and tugging her close. "Nice one, Bones. Humorous. Good job."

"It was a play on words because Mr Fisher and I work with bones and I was making a statement about how funny he can be by playing on the word humorous, a bone in the upper arm."

"I know. I got it."

"I am very amusing," she declares proudly. "Perhaps I should explore a third career in stand-up comedy?"

"I think you should stick to anthropology and novels, Bones. Don't want to put too many things on your plate."

"I suppose you're right... I'd be good at it though."

Booth bites his tongue, not wanting to offend her on their date night. While he finds her sense of humour adorably funny, he's not so sure she would be such a hit with the general public. "You'd be something special, Bones, that's for sure."

She narrows her eyes at his not-quite-positive endorsement. Before she can argue, the curtain lifts and her intern, dressed in all black, of course, walks onto stage, microphone in hand.

"I would say good evening, but I have crippling depression, so that would be a lie," he begins, earning a smattering of laughter from some members of the crowd.

Brennan purses her lips and glances at her partner. He simply arches one eyebrow as if to say "I told you so."

"So I went to the dentist a while back to have one of my teeth removed. He said, 'OK, this is going to hurt a little... I've been having an affair with your wife for the last five months.'"

More laughter from the audience.

"He doesn't have a wife," Brennan whispers, crinkling her nose in confusion.

"I know, Bones, but it's his brand of comedy. Black comedy they call it. I think it's awful, personally."

"Shhh." A teenager with shaggy black hair and a lip piercing turns around and glares at them, so Booth and Brennan quieten.

"I've been clearing out my apartment, right?" He says, pacing the small stage. "So I've been putting stuff up on eBay, trying to get rid of it. It's not really working out so I figured I'd advertise one of the items here tonight, if you don't mind. For sale - my brother's parachute: used once, never opened, small stain."

"What do driving and dating have in common?" He pauses, his eyes scanning over the audience before dropping the punch line. "Both end up with you being chased by the police if you go too fast."

He takes a swig of beer. "Cremation! My final hope for a smokin' hot body."

"My boss is actually here tonight – Dr. Temperance Brennan. Stand up, Dr. B!"

Reluctantly – and much to Booth's horror – she does stand up, the bright stage light landing on her and practically blinding her. She waves awkwardly, not knowing what else to do.

"We're forensic anthropologists which means we help investigate different murders. In one case we were working on last week, a little girl had been caught up in an explosion. Where did she go? _Everywhere_."

"That's not funny," Brennan says over the crowd's raucous laughter, including the shaggy-haired teenager who'd shushed them before. "And it's also not accurate. We investigated the apparent suicide of a sixty year old man."

"Suicide," Fisher exclaims. "Even better."

Brennan furrows her brow, remaining standing despite Booth's ardent attempts to get her to sit down. "Suicide isn't a laughing matter, Mr Fisher. I find you're being extremely unprofessional."

Everyone laughs again, assuming she's joking.

"I don't understanding why they're finding this so amusing, Booth."

"Black comedy," he reminds her, wincing as Fisher regales another offensive joke about his job in the death business. He told Bones they should never have come to this. He told her.

"You know, the only jokes I don't like are rape ones."

"Oh no," Booth mumbles under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. This is not going to be good.

"They always feel so forced," comes the end of the 'joke'.

"Come on, Booth, let's go," Brennan decides, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the comedy club, ignoring the fact that all eyes are on them. Once outside, she apologises for ruining their date night. "I didn't realise his jokes would be so... so..."

"Offensive? Horrible? Depressing?" Booth tries.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. And now you've missed half the football game you wanted to watch."

"Hey, it's OK, Bones. We could just go to the Founding Fathers? Grab a beer or two?"

"That's an excellent idea," she responds, smacking her lips against his cheek. "It's still going _tibia_ good night after all."

He shakes his head lovingly. "Don't give up your day job, Bones."

 **I found Fisher's weird dark jokes online, they're not mine. However, I do take credit for the two awful bones puns in there ;)**

 **Review?**


	11. Food and Drink Tasting

**Thank you for reaching 100 reviews on this story, I really appreciate it!**

 **This chapter is set before the greatest wedding in television history, in case that isn't clear ;)**

 **Chapter Eleven: Food/Drink Tasting**

As soon as he'd heard that Agent Booth and Dr Brennan were getting married, he'd immediately volunteered his services.

Now a culinary genius with five star restaurants in Paris, London and New York, he didn't really have time to cater for a simple wedding reception, but he'd ordered his assistant to clear his schedule. He'd do anything for the couple he's come to adore. Inviting them over to his flagship restaurant in DC for a food and wine tasting session (and a general catch up, if he's being completely honest) is nothing.

He looks up as they walk into the dining area, Booth just as handsome as he remembered, Brennan just as beautiful, both significantly happier. They're practically glowing as Booth rests his hand on the small of his partner's back and she leans into him intimately. Personal space has never been their thing, Gordon Gordon remarks to himself.

He approaches them with a warm smile, suddenly realising how much he's missed them. "Good evening, Mr and Mrs Booth."

"It's nice to see you, Gordon Gordon," Booth says, shaking his hand. "But Bones here is actually keeping her name."

He looks at her in surprise. "Is that so? Can I ask why? It is, after all, a tradition to take your husband's name after marriage."

"I'm already established in my field as Dr. Brennan and it's what my readers know me as. I don't want to change my name and interfere with my success."

"Plus, she calls me Booth and so do our friends and family. It would be way too confusing if we were both Booth."

"You make a fair point," the chef and former psychiatrist concedes, silently thinking that they've never really made a traditional couple anyway. "Congratulations on your betrothal, by the way. I knew this day would come, but I am delighted for the both of you nevertheless."

"Thank you," Brennan replies, grinning at Booth like he's the only other person in the room. "We're very happy, aren't we, Booth?"

Gordon Gordon notices him pull her even closer and kiss the top of her head. "We are," he agrees.

"And I believe you have a little girl now too?"

"Yes, her name is Christine. Look," Brennan removes her phone from her back pocket and shows Gordon Gordon her lock screen, a candid photograph of Booth and Christine snuggling together on the sofa. "How perfect are they?"

"Extremely perfect. She's getting big."

"Yeah, she is. It's crazy - it feels like she was only born yesterday."

"I bet," Gordon Gordon responds, admiring the 'proud parent' look the two partners share. "I told you, by the way."

"Told me what?" Booth asks, puzzled.

"That you were building a family around the wonderful doctor here. I was right."

Booth's cheeks flush pink under Brennan's stare and he coughs, embarrassed. "I suppose you were. So, um, shall we get on with this?"

"Right, of course. Wedding menus." He places a sizeable stack of laminated sheets on the table closest to them, each with a three-course menu written on it. He instructs them to have a quick read through all of them and eliminate the ones they don't like, narrowing it down to two or three for them to taste.

They do as he says with minimal bickering and eventually decide on their favourite two menus.

The first one consists of chicken terrine, smoked trout or carrot soup to start with slow cooked pork for the main or quinoa with butternut squash for the vegetarians. For desert, he offers crème brûlée or lemon and honey cheesecake, which has Booth practically salivating at the mouth just thinking about it.

The second menu starts with smoked salmon and crab or apple and fennel soup, followed by a fillet of beef with roast root vegetables and red wine sauce or alternatively Truffle gnocchi. For desert, there is a choice of vanilla panna cotta with caramelised pear and chocolate sauce or a tarte tatin.

"Hodgins would love us forever if we served him truffles at our wedding," Brennan says, recalling a double date they'd had with Angela and Hodgins where the latter ate truffles and gushed about how "divine" they were for an entire month afterwards.

"I know he would but this is _our_ day, Bones. We need to choose _our_ favourite menu, not Hodgins'."

"I suppose you're right... Everything sounds so good though. How will we pick?"

"Close our eyes and eeny, meeny, miny, moe it?" He suggests, recoiling at the glare she sends his way.

"No, Booth! We have to be methodical about this!"

"Why? Why can't we just go with our gut?"

"Because," she exhales deeply, rolling her eyes at him, "as I have told you countless times before, you cannot rely on gut instincts because it's stupid and nonsensical."

" _Stupid_? It's not-."

"All right, you two," Gordon Gordon interrupts, feeling like he's supervising a pair of young children. "The food is ready to sample. We also have some wine for you, but that's only for adults. Are you going to grow up and stop bickering?"

Thoroughly chastised, Booth and Brennan agree to stop bickering, even though he knows they'll probably just pick up where they left off this evening. Whatever. He doesn't care as long as there are no arguments in his fine establishment.

He clicks his fingers and a herd of waiters and waitresses, all dressed in crisp white shirts and black trousers with not a hair out of place, bring out the reception dinner options, filling the table in front of Booth and Brennan with lots of delicious looking food for them to sample, as well as two goblets of Cabernet Sauvignon.

"Menu One is on the white plates," he explains, gesturing to the meal on the left side of the table, "and Menu Two on the black. _Bon Appetit._ "

He leaves them to it, watching from the entrance of the kitchen as the partners immediately tuck in, their expressions showing their pleasure as they discover that everything tastes as amazing as it looks.

"I think Gordon Gordon made an excellent decision when he left psychiatry to pursue a culinary career," he overhears Brennan say.

"Right?" Booth agrees, helping himself to more of the chicken terrine on the white plate. "I know you won't try it because animals are our friends, not our food and blah, blah, blah, but this tastes absolutely incredible, Bones."

" _Really_?"

If Gordon Gordon can remember anything from his years studying human body language, and the fact that the first black dish is completely scraped clean, he can tell Brennan prefers the apple and fennel soup from the second menu. As with most things in their personal and professional lives, it appears as though they will disagree about this too.

"Yeah." The FBI agent devours the slow cooked pork, again from the white plate of Menu One, and groans when he moves onto the honey cheesecake. "Oh. My. God."

Gordon Gordon smirks. The cheesecake is a personal favourite of his too.

"Good?"

"Heavenly," he describes, scooping some up and holding it in front of her mouth like the chef imagines he does with Christine when she's refusing to eat her veggies.

Brennan finishes her desert, then wraps her lips around the spoon, her entrancing blue-grey eyes locking onto his brown ones.

"Like it?" Booth chokes.

"Love it," she says, licking her lips. "However, I think we should select Menu Two as it is obviously the superior choice."

" _Obviously_?" Booth raises his eyebrows and Gordon Gordon can sense another fight brewing. "I prefer Menu One."

"We need to make a decision today, Booth, so I really think compromise is the only way forward."

"Aw, you're offering to compromise? That's sweet, Bones. Thank you."

Her mouth falls open. "I did not say-."

"How's it going?" Gordon Gordon questions, cutting in before the situation escalates.

"We can't agree," Booth mumbles, his neck flushed red.

" _Agent Booth_ is not willing to compromise-."

Booth scoffs at her accusing tone. " _You're_ the one who won't-."

"Enough," Gordon Gordon shouts, attracting the attention of his entire staff preparing for the evening's rush hour. He shoos them away and returns his attention to the engaged couple. He should have known this wouldn't be easy.

"We're sorry," Booth apologises as his phone buzzes with an incoming text. "We- oh. Sweets needs me back at the office."

"I should probably be getting back to the lab as well," Brennan adds, flashing her phone that reads nine missed calls from Angela. Turning to Gordon Gordon, she asks if they can ring him this evening once they've made up their minds.

Reluctantly, he agrees, and the two crime-fighters bustle out of the restaurant. He shakes his head to himself in amusement, beginning to stack the cleaned-off plates.

They may be engaged with a young daughter now, but they're still the same Booth and Brennan that they always were.

Later that evening as he reclines in his office in the back of the restaurant to seek a moment's peace amongst the chaos of service, his cell vibrates on the table. Instinctively knowing who it is before he even reads the caller ID, a smile forms on his face.

"Hello, Agent Booth."

 _"_ _Gordon Gordon. Hi. Do you have a moment?"_

"Of course. I assume this is about the menu for your upcoming nuptials?"

 _"_ _Yes,"_ he responds. _"We've come to a decision. Well, I have. I think-."_

"You are selecting Menu Two, correct?"

Booth hesitates, confused. _"H-How did you-."_

Smiling wider, he reveals he received a call from Dr Brennan just five minutes earlier where she'd confirmed they wanted the first menu for their wedding reception meal. "If I were you, Agent Booth," Gordon Gordon says in his British accent that makes his very American boyfriend swoon, "I wouldn't argue this decision any further. Dr Brennan compromised because she loves you and I think you should let her have this romantic gesture."

 _"_ _I will,"_ comes Booth's voice a few moments later. _"Thank you. For everything."_

"You are very welcome, Agent. I look forward to seeing you on your wedding day."

He can practically see the beam on Booth's face through the phone. _"I can't wait."_

 **Sorry these updates are so irregular. I promise I will get round to finishing this story at some point this year!**

 **Leave a review if you liked it?**


	12. Picnic

**Chapter Twelve: Picnic**

As she has for the last five days in a row, Brennan wakes up with a smile on her face. Her husband's arms are slung around her waist, the sun is already up and shining and she's on her _honeymoon._

They decided pretty soon after they got engaged that they wanted to honeymoon in Buenos Aires, Argentina. It has history for Brennan and beaches for Booth; the decision was unanimous. And so far, they've loved every second.

Although solving the murder of a Nazi war criminal hadn't been on their original honeymoon agenda, they love working together and it had given them the opportunity to explore parts of the city that they might not have seen otherwise. They only have a few more days left of their trip before they return home though, so they're determined to make the most of the time remaining.

"Mornin', Bones," Booth murmurs, his voice gruff as he awakens. "Sleep well?"

"I always sleep well when I'm in your arms," she responds, rolling over and planting a kiss on his lips. "How did you sleep?"

"Amazing. This bed is so comfy I never want to leave it."

"That's because the mattress is made of memory foam. It is made of polyurethane which softens in reaction to body heat, allowing it to mould to the body."

Booth holds up a hand. "Stop. Please. It's too early for a science lesson."

"Fine," she sighs, a little disappointed. She loves teaching him – not only because her so-called "squint speak" turns him on and more often than not results in them engaging in intercourse – but also because she enjoys imparting wisdom and sharing her passion for science with the man she loves. Never mind. She'll explain the technology behind memory foam later; it's really quite fascinating. "I'm afraid we can't stay in bed forever, Booth. We have things to do."

"What things?"

"It's a surprise," she says, kissing him again before climbing out of bed. She stands in front of him, completely naked. "I'm going to shower now. Are you joining me?"

He smirks and practically _leaps_ out of bed in childlike excitement. "Of course I'm joining you. Let's go."

After a longer-than-usual shower that Brennan's husband and his wandering hands are _entirely_ to blame for, they get dressed and Booth is about to go downstairs to the hotel's restaurant when Brennan stops him with a hand to his chest.

"What is it, Bones?" He asks, furrowing his brow.

"There's been a change of plans. We're not having breakfast at the hotel today."

"Why not? We're not going back to the morgue, are we? Because-."

"No, we're not going to the morgue. I think our honeymoon has been filled with enough death and murder, don't you?"

"Definitely," he agrees. "So where are we going? I'm hungry."

"As I told you earlier, it's a surprise. Come on." She grabs his hand and drags him out of the hotel room that they've been enjoying very much this holiday. She holds on to him as they take the narrow pathway that leads right from their hotel to the beach and doesn't let go until they arrive at an impressive set up of two large blankets, an umbrella and a hamper that Booth assumes is filled with lots of delicious food.

He glances up at his grinning wife. "We're having a picnic?"

"On the beach, yes. I thought it would be romantic."

"It is."

"Are you surprised?" She asks expectantly, hoping for an answer in the affirmative. She's always been pathetic at keeping secrets from him, but she tried _so hard_ this time.

"Very. This is amazing, Bones. How did you even have time to set this up? We've been together almost constantly."

"I arranged it with the hotel staff last night when you were at the bar," she explains, rightfully proud of herself for actually surprising him for once. She sits down, Booth sitting down beside her, and begins removing breakfast items from the hamper. Fruits. Granola. Orange juice that they pour into two Champagne flutes.

They fall into a comfortable silence as they eat their breakfast, admiring the view of the ocean glimmering in the early morning sun.

"It's beautiful here," Brennan muses. "I've been to many incredible places around the world but this is just..."

"I know. We made a good choice on the honey destination. I know Angela was pestering you to go to Paris, but I'm glad we came here instead. I love it."

"So do I. We'll have to come back. Perhaps we could bring the children. Parker enjoys swimming in the sea and Christine loves building sandcastles, even if she does get upset when the waves wash them away."

Booth smiles at the memory of the first time they'd taken their children to the beach together. It was during a trip to California for one of Brennan's book signings and they'd decided to turn it into a family holiday. Parker was splashing around in the cool blue water, Booth was playing in the sand with Christine and Brennan was relaxing on her beach towel reading a book. Booth remembers how happy he'd felt, spending that holiday with his three favourite people on Earth. He's sure his children would appreciate Argentina's golden coastline just as much. "That's a great idea, Bones."

"I'm full of great ideas," she boasts, popping a strawberry in her mouth.

"Oh, really?" He quirks a brow. "Name one example."

"This picnic."

"That was too easy," he laments, pouting. "Name another one."

"Our wedding."

"Nuh-uh. Angela planned our emergency wedding. As much as I love you, I'm not letting you take credit for that one."

"I love you, too, which is why I proposed to you. Since I proposed, us getting married was _my_ idea."

"I proposed, too," he points out.

"I am aware, Booth. However, I am still correct as I proposed first."

"You only proposed first because you told me you didn't want to get married and I didn't want to pressure you."

"While I was clearly mistaken about my opinion of marriage, that doesn't take away from the fact that I'm right and you're wrong. The wedding was my idea," she insists stubbornly.

He groans, closing his eyes. "I'm never going to win this debate, am I?"

"Not a chance," she replies.

"Figures." He re-opens his eyes and his gaze softens just looking at his bride. She's bare-footed in a white cover-up with a red bikini on underneath and her hair is swept over one shoulder, her face make-up free. She always looks beautiful, of course, but she's looked especially beautiful ever since he saw her walk down that aisle. It's like she's so much happier now – her skin is glowing and it's not because of bathing in the hot Argentine sun for the last week. Marriage looks incredible on her. "I guess I knew what I was getting myself in for when I married you."

"Yes. You have known me for a very long time, it makes sense for you to know that I always win arguments."

"Sure you do, Bones," he chuckles. Finishing up with their breakfast, he looks out at the ocean. "Wanna go for a swim?"

"Only if we can race."

"Bones..."

"Come on!" She cries, stripping off her cover-up to reveal her amazing body in that red bikini. "It will be fun!"

"Not everything has to be a competition, you know?" He pauses. "Oh, what the heck. We'll go on the count of three."

"On three or after three?" She questions, her eyes twinkling.

" _On_ three," he says, just as he did all those years ago when they got stuck in his elevator during a blizzard. Little did he know back then that one day they'd be on their honeymoon in Argentina about to have a swimming race. "OK. One... Two... Thr- Hey, _Bones_!"

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	13. Museum

**Chapter Thirteen: Museum**

"I am never letting you pick date night again," Booth complains, unable to mask the disdain in his tone. He gestures at the building in front of them, the building he'd only just convinced her to leave two hours earlier. "What the hell are we doing back at the Jeffersonian, Bones?"

"I want to show you something," she responds, bright-eyed, as she clasps her hands together.

"What can you possibly want me to see that can't wait until tomorrow? This is _date night_ , Bones."

"I am well aware of that fact, which is why we're here."

He furrows his brow. "But you work here."

"I know. However, we're not here for work," she pauses for dramatic effect, "we're here for some fun."

His brain is immediately filled with dirty images of his wife and all the _fun_ kind of activities they get up to together when their baby girl is sleeping. He swallows, trying not to get his hopes up. For all he knows, Brennan could be describing a lecture on the skeletal differences between Neanderthals and _Homo sapiens_. "What kind of fun?"

"Exactly the kind you're thinking of, Booth," she says, smirking. "I was talking to Angela and Daisy at my bachelorette party... As you know, we were all very drunk..."

* * *

 _"_ _You're so lucky, Dr. Brennan; Agent Booth is one sexy man," Daisy comments, resting her chin on her hand and sighing wistfully as she imagines the things those large hands could do._

 _Caroline nods her agreement. "After working with Seeley Booth for all these years, I concur that you have married a beautiful man, Cherie."_

 _"_ _Oh, believe me, I_ _ **know**_ _."_

 _"_ _Tell them about the bathtub!" Angela says a little too loudly - her excitement getting the better of her – as she grabs Brennan's forearm. "They'll_ _ **love**_ _the bathtub story."_

 _Too drunk to care about keeping their privacy in front of their co-workers, Brennan willingly regales the story about the intimate bath she'd shared with her husband last week, sparing no detail. She describes the way Booth had lavished her body with kisses, the massages they'd shared and the activities that had led to other activities in the bedroom and later in the kitchen when they both became hungry._

 _Her audience are gripped._

 _Brennan finishes her tale; her cheeks are flushed pink from a mix of the alcohol and the reminder of her amazing husband and a proud smirk has formed on her face._

 _Daisy is the first to speak. "Oh my God. That sounds_ _ **amazing**_ _!"_

 _"_ _It was," Brennan replies dreamily._

 _"_ _Arastoo and I love the tub, too," Cam reveals, chuckling._

 _"_ _Me and Hodgins prefer the bed in the Jeffersonian's Egyptian Wing," the artist announces with zero qualms, happily sipping her Margarita._

 _"_ _You_ _ **what**_ _?" Cam widens her eyes, horrified that her employees are taking time off work to... you know... on the museum's premises!_

 _"_ _Oh, come on, Cam!" Daisy scoffs. "Like you and Arastoo have never snuck off to a storage cupboard and-."_

 _"_ _No, we have not. We're professionals. Don't tell me you and Sweets..."_

 _"_ _We were very adventurous sexually speaking. We often had sex in his office and in numerous locations around the Jeffersonian, including behind Dr. Brennan's desk."_

 _"_ _I am learning some things tonight," Caroline murmurs under her breath. She'll never be able to look at the psychologist the same again._

 _"_ _Sorry, Dr. B," Daisy apologises, biting her lip as she realises she may have said too much and put her job on the line._

 _"_ _It's fine." Brennan giggles to herself. "Booth and I have never actually engaged in intercourse in either of our offices before, but perhaps we should try it. It sounds very fun."_

 _Angela's eyes twinkle with delight. "It is, sweetie. The danger of being caught makes the sex way hotter. I can guarantee that you'll both have a great time."_

* * *

"So I have decided to take Angela's advice this evening. We're going to have Museum Sex."

"Are you sure?" Booth asks – he doesn't want her getting in trouble with Cam or the higher ups if they get caught. Not that he doesn't want to go through with his wife's plan for date night. He's fantasized about this for the longest time. He just wants to make sure that _she's_ sure. He'd never force her to do something she didn't want to.

"100%. Come on, Booth, we only have half an hour before the security guards do their rounds."

Without waiting for a response, she drags him through the entrance, criss-crossing the lab to reach her darkened office. She opens the door, pulls him through and locks it behind them. Their eyes meet and the room temperature suddenly increases by approximately 500 degrees.

She shucks off Booth's plaid shirt, revealing his bare chest that, even though marred with wounds from stabbings and bullets, still looks absolutely perfect to her. She runs her hands over his muscular arms, said chest and his abdomen. She quickly removes his belt, jeans and Captain America underwear, pleased with the sight before her. Their friends were right: she is _very_ lucky.

Unable to help herself, she crashes her lips onto his, her fingers running through his hair.

Booth breaks the kiss only to pull her dress over her head, practically growling at the lingerie he finds beneath. "I've never seen this before," he says breathlessly between the kisses he presses to her lips.

"That's because it's new."

"It's hot. _You're_ hot."

Brennan grins lasciviously. "I know."

"I think" – _kiss_ – "we should" – _kiss_ – "move this" – _kiss_ – "to the couch" – _kiss_.

She agrees easily, watching as he lies on her couch and then settling above him.

Booth was right – sex has been more passionate since the wedding and she is loving every second of it.

 **Review? :)**


	14. Baking

**Because I'm lazy/really busy studying for exams, this one is basically the same as Chapter Ten of one of my older stories "those christmas lights keep shining on", but I have added some new things and (hopefully) made it better, so you can still read it! I'll get back to proper, more regular updates after exams. :)**

 **Chapter Fourteen: Baking**

Booth comes back from work to find the kitchen surfaces covered in bags and bags of grocery shopping. Curious, he peaks inside one of them and finds a large packet of flour, some sugar and cake decorations. His wife appears then and swats his hand away from the chocolate chips he has broken into.

"No, Booth, these are for Christine!"

"What?" He looks at her with abject horror. "How come she gets to eat them and I don't?"

"Miss Newsom is leaving the daycare tomorrow after working there for 20 years. They're throwing her a party and the children need to bring in cakes. This is the first opportunity I've had to bake for it," she explains, emptying some of the other bags with contain icing, more flour, margarine, eggs and vanilla pods for flavouring. "Would you like to help?"

"Yeah, sure," he replies, thinking it will be a nice way to relax after an emotionally gruelling case in which a teenage girl had been murdered. He picks up Brennan's apron and puts it over her head, then spins her around, tying it at her waist. She does the same for him and he shakes his butt, loving the sound of her laughter.

" _Focus_ , Booth. There's time for that later. This is important."

"You're right."

"I'm always right," she says seriously, getting out a glass bowl from one of the cupboards and placing it on the electronic scales. "The first thing we need to do is measure out the ingredients."

First he measures out the flour, making Brennan laugh when a cloud of dust covers his face. He glares at her, determining to get revenge later. Once the flour is in the bowl, he goes to put it on the side and measure out the sugar but he feels Brennan's arm on his shoulder and he turns to her, confused.

"You are six point four grams over the correct measurement, Booth."

He pulls a face. "Does it matter?"

"Yes!" She exclaims, horrified. "The recipe wouldn't give us precise measurements if they didn't want us to use that exact amount. Take out the excess flour, please."

Rolling his eyes, he tips out some of the flour, a large proportion falling on their kitchen surfaces and floor, rather than back in the packet. He places the bowl back on the scales. Now they are ten grams under the limit. He glances warily at his wife, wondering if she wants him to correct it and, by the expression on her face, it's pretty obvious that she does. He groans, adding the flour in small spoonfuls until he finally reaches the indicated amount.

Brennan smiles proudly.

He tells her to measure out the rest of the ingredients and she takes over easily. It's really no surprise to Booth that she takes the task extremely seriously and weighs out the perfect quantities of each ingredient the first time.

While his wife does the measuring, he heats up then oven and adds the floral paper cases to the muffin tray. Brennan has brought three new trays (because apparently young children _really_ love cupcakes), so by the time he has finished lining all of them it's time to begin combining the ingredients.

She pours the sugar and margarine into the mixing bowl, creaming them together until it has the perfect texture. She sticks her tongue out adorably as she does this and he grins because his wife is, like, the cutest person ever. He then adds some vanilla (probably too much if Brennan's gasp is anything to go by) and the eggs. She mixes it all up with the wooden spoon and then tips the flour into the bowl.

Once the cake mixture is prepared, they spoon it into the cases.

Brennan evenly divides her half of the mixture between each cupcake so it looks really neat, with not a single drop outside the casing.

Booth, however, is not so successful. He dollops the most mixture in the first cases then, when the bowl is nearly empty and he still has five more to fill, he realises where he has made his fatal flaw. Brennan watches him disapprovingly with her hand on her hip as he steals some of the mixture from the overfilled cases into his empty ones and scrapes the bowl desperately, trying to get as much out of it as possible.

They put the trays into the oven and set the timer.

"What do we do now?"

"We could clean the kitchen…" Brennan suggests, looking around at all the mess Booth made while baking.

" _Cleaning_? No way, Bones. That's no fun. I've got a way better idea." Smirking, he lifts her up and sits her on top of the kitchen counter, eagerly pressing his lips to hers.

Brennan catches on to his "way better idea" pretty swiftly, thoroughly enjoying the make-out session with her husband. She slips off her apron and peels off her shirt, revealing her favourite red bra. Before she can remove that too, the oven timer beeps and she sighs.

"Ignore it," Booth murmurs, kissing his way down her chest.

"The cakes will burn," she protests weakly, not really wanting him to stop.

"Fine." He rests his forehead against hers and looks her in the eyes. "But we will resume this later, ok?"

"Definitely," she promises, giving him a chaste kiss. "Now help me down."

Reluctantly, he places his hands on her hips and helps her back onto the floor, taking a moment to compose himself while Brennan shuts off the beeping noise and removes the trays from the oven, setting them to one side to allow them to cool before decoration.

They then start on making the white icing that will go on each cake. After bickering for several minutes about what is the correct consistency of the icing (which Brennan "wins" because, _hello_ , she's still in just her bra and Booth can't really concentrate), Booth smothers the icing on his cakes and Brennan ices hers. He tries to make them swap "to even out the crappy ones", but she refuses, saying she doesn't want her masterpieces ruined by his sloppiness.

Brennan bought a variety of additional decorations for the cakes. Sprinkles, tubes of red, yellow, green and blue icing, as well as the remaining chocolate chips that Booth didn't eat.

While Booth takes the simple, classic route, decorating his cakes with sprinkles and chocolate chips, Brennan's cakes are much more artistic. She draws Marigolds (Miss Newsom's favourite flower), the smiling faces of some of the children and the daycare itself.

"How are you so good at this?" He questions, taking a bite out of one of his crappier ones.

"When I was younger my mom and I would always bake together," she says wistfully, a soft smile on her face. "She would teach me a new recipe every weekend. Max and Russ would always try and steal our famous brownies before they'd cooled down sufficiently and mom would get _so_ mad…"

Booth grins as he watches her reminisce about the good memories of her childhood. "How about you teach me and Christine how to make them next week, huh?"

"That actually sounds like a lot of fun."

"Of course it would be fun. I can't guarantee I wouldn't steal all of them while they were still warm though, Bones. Nothin' beats a warm brownie."

"Not if I steal them first," she teases, picking a cake crumb from the corner of his mouth and popping it in her own mouth.

"Hey! You know what, on second thoughts, I can think of _one thing_ better than warm brownies…"

"Oh, yeah? And what's that, Agent Booth?" She asks coyly.

He grins. "I think you know, Dr. Brennan."

"I think so too. Race you to the tub!"

 **Review? :)**


	15. At The Park

**Because I'm lazy/really busy studying for exams, this one is basically the same as Chapter Fifteen of one of my older stories "those christmas lights keep shining on", but I have (hopefully) made it better, so you can still read it! I'll get back to proper, more regular updates after exams. :)**

 **Chapter Fifteen: At the park**

"Ha! I win!" Booth cheers as he reaches the park bench, the finishing line they'd both agreed on earlier, Brennan right behind him.

"You did not!" She huffs in frustration, dropping to the bench and taking a gulp of water. She offers the bottle to Booth, who accepts it easily. "You had a head start. Plus, you're taller than me which gives you a couple of additional seconds I do not have. It doesn't count!"

"Just face it, Bones, you lost and I'm king of the world."

She shakes her head, not for the first time thinking that he has the same maturity level as their baby girl. "I think I deserve a rematch."

"Oh, yeah? How come?"

"You had an unfair advantage," she argues. "If we raced again, I would kick your butt."

"You sure about that?"

"I'm always sure when I speak, Booth. Are you scared of losing to your wife?"

He barks with laughter. "God, no. I'm scared I'd beat you for a second time and it would put you in a bad mood for the rest of the day."

"In your dreams!"

"Fine, I'll prove it," he tells her, standing up and jumping up and down on the spot a little bit to warm up again, surprised when he sees his wife leap off the bench and start sprinting away from him. "Hey!" He yells, quickly chasing after her.

She's frustratingly fast, but eventually he overtakes her and turns around so he's going backwards. He glances over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he doesn't knock anybody over, but mostly focuses on his wife's smirking face.

"Cheat!"

"I did not cheat! I just didn't pre-warn you that I would be beginning the race at that moment."

"That's called cheating, you little devil," he says, scowling at her, then turning back around so he's facing the right direction. His years of military and FBI training allow him to pick up the pace, enlarging the distance between him and his Bones. He spots a coffee cart in the near distance and slows to a stop, ordering a to-go cup for each of them and watching as Brennan finally catches up.

She's wearing running pants that end mid-shin, a t-shirt with a light jacket and a pair of running shoes he bought for her birthday when she told him she wanted to get back into a daily running routine. Her hair is pulled up in a loose pony, her face make-up free and shiny with sweat. He really loves her like this. Wife-Brennan is much more relaxed and carefree than work-Brennan, who can easily become distant and detached, consumed by cases and sets of ancient remains.

A wide smile forms on his face as she stops at his side. "Beat you. Again."

"Whatever," she responds, taking out the necessary notes to pay for their drinks. She hands it over to the vendor and follows Booth, who has begun to walk away, paper cups in hand. Her phone rings and her husband sighs, knowing their alone time is coming to an end. "Brennan. Yes, OK. Don't touch the remains until I get there!"

"Body at the lab?" He checks once she hangs up the phone.

"Unfortunately. Give me a lift home first so I can shower?"

"You got it, Bones," he says, clicking open the car door as they approach the parked SUV. "Perhaps we should share a shower. You know, for time-saving purposes."

She laughs loudly as he opens the door for her and she climbs in. She waits until he's in the driver's seat before agreeing. "Purely for time-saving purposes."

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	16. Stargazing

**Exams are finally done and I (just about) survived my first year of uni! Updates will hopefully be back to normal now! Enjoy :)**

 **Chapter Sixteen: Stargazing**

"You did good today, Bones," Booth says, his tone infused with pride, as he lays down two blankets on the grass.

"Thank you, Booth," she responds, grinning as she sits down on one blanket and passes him a bottle of beer, using her free hand to pull him down next to her. "You did good too. In that interrogation, the way you got him to confess. It was very clever."

"Thanks, Bones. You are so sweet."

She shrugs, accepting a kiss. "I try."

"I know you do. That's why I love you."

"I thought you said you don't have reasons why you love me?" She points out, crinkling her nose in confusion.

"I don't but-."

"You just said you love me because I try. That's a reason."

"Bones-."

"I find that I'm disappointed. Your previous statement was highly romantic but now-."

"Bones!" He waves his hands in front of her face, getting her attention. "Slow down, OK? I still don't have reasons why I love you."

"You just said-."

"I know what I said," he replies, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. "Listen. I said I didn't have reasons because I love you unconditionally. I can't help but love you. I couldn't stop loving you - even when I was with Hannah. However, you do certain things that make me love you a little more, like, being sweet or being a great mom to Christine. Stuff like that."

Brennan pauses, a soft smile on her face. "You should have been more clear."

"You're right," he chuckles, taking her hand and squeezing it.

"I'm always right," she agrees.

"Yes, you are."

"And you are still a very romantic man, Booth."

"Aw, thanks, Bones."

"So, what are we doing out here?" She glances around their garden, Christine's treehouse to the left, the grill on the patio on the right. She and Booth and laying on the lawn, but it's kind of cold out and she'd much rather be snuggling with him in their bed.

"Well, I figured we could stargaze a little bit. You know, relax under the stars, maybe make out a little…"

Brennan looks from her husband's handsome face to the clear night sky. "We live in a city, Booth."

"And?"

She points upwards and Booth's eyes follow. She can see the moment realisation sets in and the way disappointment makes his smile fall.

"You can't see stars in the city," he answers for her in a quiet, sad whisper.

"I'm so sorry, Booth. It was such a great, romantic idea and-."

"It's fine, Bones. Don't worry. I guess I'll just have to come up with another way to surprise you."

"I guess you will. Should we go back inside now? It's kinda cold."

"Yeah," he responds, standing up and offering a hand for her to take. Helping her up, he immediately wraps his arms around her and lifts her into his arms, bridal style.

"Booth! What are you doing?"

"Carrying you over the threshold. That's what you do when you're married, right?"

Brennan giggles, burying her face in his broad shoulder. "You only need to do it once. On the wedding night. And besides, I am perfectly capable of walking back indoors."

"Yeah, I know. Independent woman. I get it. But I'm your husband and I like holding you in my arms." He flashes her the most charming of his charming smiles and strides back inside their house, careful not to wake a sleeping Christine.

"Where are you taking me, husband?" She asks, biting her lower lip.

"I think you know where, wife," he replies, carrying her upstairs and into their bedroom, dropping her (gently) atop their mattress. He crawls over her, pressing kisses to her thighs, stomach, chest, neck and finally, once Brennan is almost dying with anticipation, he reaches her lips. She tangles her fingers in his hair and smiles against his mouth, enjoying this so much more than being outside in the cold.

"Bones," he murmurs. "Stop. Thinking."

So she does.

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	17. Snuggling on the Couch

**I've had a difficult, busy and wifi-less week with both my grandma and nan being in** hospital **at the same time. This little drabble is all I had the energy for right now but hopefully you enjoy it nevertheless.**

 **Chapter Seventeen: Snuggling on the Couch**

"I had a great day today, Bones," Booth says quietly, his chin resting atop Brennan's head as they curl up on the couch together late one Sunday night. They'd had a fairly relaxed day; the parents had spent the morning baking brownies with Christine, playing in the treehouse out back in the afternoon and watching Disney movies before their daughter's eyes gently slipped shut and they carried her to bed. Now the TV is on mute and Booth's arms are wrapped tightly around his wife.

"So did I," she responds, her voice equally soft. "Don't want to go into work tomorrow."

Booth gasps.

"What?"

"Are you suggesting we play hooky, Dr. Brennan?"

She rolls her eyes at him, but snuggles closer into his chest. "No, of course not. I am a professional. I am merely saying that it would be nice if we didn't have to move tomorrow… If we could just stay right here."

"That would be very nice," Booth murmurs.

"It would," Brennan echoes, falling silent for a few moments. "I am very happy right now, Booth."

"Me too, Bones."

"I mean really happy. The happiest I've ever been in my life." She twists her neck so she's looking into his beautiful brown eyes and smiles a little. "I never thought I wanted this - a husband and children - and even when I realised I did, I never dreamed I could actually have it. But this life? What we have here - you, me, Christine and Parker? It's better than anything I could have imagined."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Booth tightens his hold on her. "You know I feel the same. After everything that happened… We're just so lucky, Bones."

"We really are." Perfectly content, Brennan closes her eyes and is lulled into sleep by the soft cadence of Booth's breathing.

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